I have been thinking about this poem a lot the last few weeks: 

“As I dig for wild orchids
In the autumn fields.
It is the deeply bedded root
that I desire,
Not the flower.”

- Izumi Shikibu, Japan (974-1034)

It is summer on this side of the world.

I am in the process of a ’start’ - I have started to write my family story. I am changing.

We will see what comes of it but little things are moving from it and I am glad that I have given myself the time, and feel blessed that I am enabled to do it! Some surprises

 

- writing grows quite long even if you just do small parts at a time - I am now able to honour one aspect of a past family story, in that I am at peace with the right of a member of our family from not wanting to share (and relive) an experience…- our family stories really do shape us - my family is much larger than I realise (though more wide than tall) - I am playing with DNA, thread strands weaving and tree forest words and I love the vibrancy and aliveness of it…even with the despair  - I have a beginning to a body of work that will be on my four grandparents (and me) "When I think of my family I see a Forest…" and perhaps even a title "The Family Forest" - I think the stories will be a multimedia (incl. digital), ie not just written - I want to be more of a storyteller and writer in my day to day life…- I have amazing friends and family (well I knew that but it helps! so thanks for all the support) - There are a lot of us in this world who have mutliple identities and feelings of ‘home’ - the intersection of place and people is interesting - I am ready for a home base again - Everything is connected…

"…Human lives are not pieces of string that can be separated out from a knot of others and laid out straight. Families are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating. Impossible to understand one part [oneself] without having a sense of the whole…" - The Thirteenth Tale p66 

So yes, this is some of where I am right now -

And now for some Blake whose words have been coming to me in whispers until the other day when I finally remembered

 

To see the world in a grain of sand,

and to see heaven in a wild flower,

hold infinity in the palm of your hands,

and eternity in an hour

- William Blake

 

PS Evidently I have been writing about ‘roots’ for a while - 1st posted this poem in Nov here… but then perhaps that is part of what journeying I am doing at the moment, one of identity and roots…and this story and tree of life we each are growing and unfolding…

Image source - thanks Naama for the beautiful pic 

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 2nd, 2007 at 7:47 pm and is filed under beauty, change, dialogue, digital storytelling, musings, poetry, stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.